Show Me Something Blue
by Peta2
Summary: Set during the episode Something Blue. Buffy comes to her senses before she trashes those droolworthy lips of Spike! COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Title: Show Me Something Blue (though this is open to suggestion)

Author: Megan

Rating: R—just to be safe.

Summary: Set during the episode _ i Something Blue. /i _Buffy comes to her senses before she trashes those drool-worthy _lips of Spike!_

Disclaimer: I have no rights to BtVS. All is owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy

Betas: Holly, as always, my huge confidence booster. A new addition, Slackerace, for adding the end polish that made me feel I wouldn't be totally embarrassing myself, and Schez, who is always brilliant with the little additions! Thank you so much guys.

**Chapter One**

Reality tore through Buffy like scorching hot winds. Her body was tight with sensation—with adrenaline brought on by fighting for their lives as well as from the lure of incredible sex with her fiancé.

Willow stood, arms held out as she reversed it all, her face a little sheepish, as if she'd accidentally mixed her milk with instant gravy instead of Nesquik. And Buffy still straddled Spike, her mind slowly catching up with the knowledge that she shouldn't be cupping Spike's cock between her thighs, that she shouldn't be loving his mouth with all the intensity of a bride-to-be. Her racing mind replayed words said to her friends and watcher, declaring that she was the Slayer, and not susceptible to the silly spells that Willow constantly screwed them over with.

She pulled away, dazed with yearning, and those words replayed over and over with furious pace. Just as Spike screwed up his face—simultaneously with her emerging revulsion—all Buffy could feel racing through her veins was humiliation. Oh God, she'd been kissing her enemy. Kissing a vampire. Crap. Kissing Spike! And she was supposed to be above being sucked in by Willow's spell kablooeyness. She was so going to kill her best friend, and she was going to really make it hurt when she did.

But in the meantime, she had damage control of the pride variety, and Spike was so not going to make her look like a spell-possessed idiot.

"Spike lips! Lips of Spike!" she improvised desperately, trying so hard to wipe the horror off her face while she clutched at his coat and slammed her lips back onto his. Under the cover of the leather, and determination to protect her plan before he tore himself away and blabbed for all the world how dumb and susceptible she was, Buffy grabbed a hold of his throbbing penis through the too tight denim and squeezed…hard.

"Mmmmm, yummm," she said even as she glared steely hate into his shocked eyes, and her belly roiled in disgust. Then, proving he wasn't as stupid as they all thought he was, he grabbed her around the waist and held her to his body tight, trapping her hand between them as he forced his tongue into her mouth.

Buffy would've gagged, but appearances were totally important to her right now. She closed her eyes and desperately tried to remember what it was like to kiss Angel this passionately. There was nothing she could compare to. While Angel had bestowed little else but sweetness upon her, Spike plundered her mouth like some trashy romance novel, except the swell of his appendage in her hand and the wetness between her legs wasn't trashy. Unholy, yes, but trashy was on another planet for now. It was hot and Buffy felt like slapping herself for being turned on by a situation that should have been making her heave. And was, even if it was internally. She was puking up all over the place in her head.

It was just a pity her body hadn't caught onto the visual—even if that revelation would completely counteract what she was doing.

There was no way Buffy would admit to getting lost in the pressure and length of his kiss, not even when horrified coughs interrupted the crawl of her fingers through his hair. But that was totally of the good, right? Made it all kinds of authentic and she was less the psycho-idiot-super-slayer that was taken over by her friend's magic.

It was Spike that eventually pulled away first, though it was with a look of hazed surprise as he stared bemusedly at her lips. Buffy couldn't stop the embarrassing panting that was the result of being kissed within an inch of collapse, and her body nearly hummed with craving a repeat.

"B-Buffy? You can stop now. I-I reversed the spell."

Rather than inspire her relief, Willow's mouse-like repentance turned Buffy's stomach—possibly even more than the lips of her enemy. Just to prove she didn't care, that the spell wasn't what had inspired her rush into romantic madness—with Spike, of all vampires—Buffy lowered her angry gaze and defiantly pecked Spike's puffy, kiss-drunk mouth.

Though a quick moment later she pulled away, feeling years older. Spike seemed just as stunned and had completely lost that 'stake-me-now-for-I-have-kissed-my-mortal-enemy' mask of horror that his face had been sporting just minutes earlier. Buffy was absurdly pleased; suddenly inspired to stick to her spontaneous plan of not looking stupid and weak to her friends, she turned to Willow with a raised brow, refusing to loosen the link of her arms around Spike's neck.

"Stop? Why would I stop, Will? I mean, I know it was fast and everything, but God, Spike is the hottest kisser ever. I can't believe I never saw what was right in front of my nose this whole time."

Three dumbfounded faces stared at the entwined pair slack-jawed and Buffy could feel her skin crawling where it was in contact with Spike's body. The weakness she was trying to hide swirled in her belly and Buffy felt the heat of bile as it rose up.

"You guys are okay now, right? Xander's done with the attracting abnormal numbers of monsters to kill him? Good." Not waiting for an answer, Buffy seized Spike's hand and almost crushed it as she dragged him outside the crypt. Suddenly overwhelmed by what had just happened, she quickly hid behind some bushes and puked up her last meal. Pushing weakly back to her feet, Buffy realised she was still holding Spike's hand and flung it from her as violently as she could while not giving the game away to her group of friends now crowding the crypt doorway.

"Am I the only one who thinks the Buffster's out of her freaking mind?" Xander searched the darkness around them for any sign of his friend and her luminous-haired companion and sighed dramatically when he'd reasoned that they'd gone. An obviously abhorrent prospect of what they might be rushing away to do crossed his mind and he shuddered violently.

Anya patted his back in a soothing motion and glared at Willow. "I think Willow did the reversal wrong. She obviously mucked it up somehow."

Indignant at first, Willow spluttered, "I did not," before admitting to herself it was more than possible. Only she could screw up a spell so spectacularly and have Buffy and Spike smooching in front of them all. "Okay, so I screwed up. But I can fix this."

Anya scoffed even though Xander grinned at her with the kind of confidence only a best friend could bestow. "I know you can, Wills."

"Although," started Anya, looking off thoughtfully past the grave markers, "Buffy could just really enjoy Spike's kisses. It isn't as if we couldn't see the sexual tension between those two."

"Anya!" Willow and Xander shouted loud enough to wake the dead, and were eternally grateful that it didn't happen—despite their location practically screaming for fulfilment.

"This is all kinds of bad. Willow, you've got to get help from Giles. If you've got Buffy still macking on the undead, I'm gonna seriously lose my lunch."

The three moved off and Buffy rolled her eyes. "Already there," she mumbled sickly, hunched over at the waist and trying to hold back the urge to heave again.

"You better make sure you brush your teeth before you try an' snog me again, Slayer."

Buffy looked up, shaking with hatred. There was nothing she wanted to do more than declare a Spike-free zone permanently at her lips, but there was no way Buffy could do that and make sure everyone understood that she and Spike got engaged on their own terms—not by virtue of some tacky spell of a grieving witch. If it got around in the demon world that she was susceptible to her own friend's emerging power in magicks, she'd have every magical hack trying to subdue her somehow. There was no other option but to pretend that she was truly engaged to Spike—and loving it.

But only in public.

In private, it was a totally different kettle of ducks.

"OW! What the bloody hell was that for, you violent bitch." Spike rubbed his aching nose and glared daggers at the diminutive blonde that had too much power over his existence, and too much speed to warn him of what he should have expected.

Buffy smiled genuinely for the first time since she'd awakened to the horror of being Spike's voluntary smut muffin. "You didn't think getting married would change me, didja?"

Spike growled and Buffy held back a small squeak at what the sound had unearthed in her belly. Her body felt all tingly and suddenly she wasn't so certain where to look—only that she couldn't look at Spike when she was feeling suddenly weak and titillated.

"You want to explain that little performance in there? Or should I just guess?"

_How had he managed to light up a cigarette right in front of her without her even noticing? _

She'd become a little distracted maybe, but Buffy soon snapped back to attention when she thought of some of the obscene reasons Spike might feel compelled to share as explanation for her strange behaviour. In everyone's world it would have made more sense for Buffy to stop the kiss the second commonsense had slammed back into her skull. Even now, it seemed pretty dumb that she'd carried it on, subjecting herself to the almost certain ridicule and disbelief of her friends.

The consequences were only just starting to hit her and Buffy felt a surge of irrational giggles create pressure in her chest. It had to be released, and in the face of Spike's irritation, Buffy succumbed to it.

"You should have seen your face." She snorted as he repeated it, feeling strangely reassured by the expected display of disgust. Finally they were having the honest moment, and Buffy was loving it.

"Stick your slithering, slimy tongue back down my throat and I'll see if I can do it again." His lip was curled in a sneer and the predictable sight of it made Buffy shiver—it wasn't long enough since she'd last had those cold, fleshy lips against hers.

And with that devastating memory, Buffy's whole body shuddered violently.

"The next time I kiss you, you so better act like it's the best kiss you've ever had or risk disintegration from my nice pointy stake." Hands on hips, Buffy glared as Spike's eyes nearly popped.

"Are you off your bird? Why the hell would you do it again, you barmy bint? And who said I wouldn't prefer a piece of wood in my chest than Slayer on my lips?" Spike's face screwed up so grotesquely Buffy was almost scared out of her wits. "If I'd known I was in for cruel and unusual punishment coming to you lot for clemency, I'd have taken my bleeding chances with the soldiers."

Buffy's eyes narrowed as she bore down on him, an ugly curl to her lips doing more to warn him than her fist full of stake ever could have that he was pressing dangerously against her last nerve.

"Not only am I b **going /b **to kiss you again, you ass, but you are going to act like you love it. You are going to convince my friends and anyone else we have to put this sickening freak-show on for that you would rather give your life than spend a day without my mouth attached to yours."

It took a few minutes of total silence for Spike's eyes to unbug and he reached for another cigarette with shaking fingers. "Just what is going on here? It was a spell. You don't have to be embarrassed about it. You've already chundered—and rather insulting that was too, if I do say so—now why don't you just move on? Preferably to another hulking Angel wannabe so I can wash your taste out of my mouth and forget this humiliating episode ever happened."

She was a fool if she'd actually expected Spike to understand. Her sensitivities were presumably far from his concerns, and just because he was all chipped and no physical danger to her, it didn't mean he was suddenly incapable of thinking up flawed plans to kill her. He just had to find someone else to do it while he sat back and waited for the blood to flow. The potential he now had to harm her with this kind of information nearly blew her mind. Any magic-inclined freak could come along and render her powerless. Why go searching for Council-approved Cruciamentum Slayer-weakening juice when she could be rendered paralysed at any demon's whim?

She had to play this carefully. Obviously Spike was yet to catch on to what kind of damaging information he had at his fingertips. She could threaten him, yet somehow Buffy couldn't see him being all that cowed by her automatic promises to turn him into dust. Somehow, that threat had lost its bounce—and more than likely from the number of times she'd b **not /b ** carried it through. So a bribe it would have to be—except what the hell did you offer a vamp who had nothing? Particularly when her own scalp hanging from his belt would make him happier than a pig in mud.

Ooh! Freedom. Spike may have come rumbling into town looking for invulnerability, but he'd ended up practically halving his potential by being stupidly caught and chipped. As much as the idea of a free-range Spike returning to the populace made her want to add to the puddle on the ground at her feet, it was something that just might guarantee his silence. And as thus, should not be a possibility easily discarded.

That so didn't mean he had to be clued into the sitch. An ignorant Spike was the very best kind and Buffy was going to make it her mission to keep him in the dark as much as he was accustomed.

"What is going on here is that you are going to do as I say and keep all your thoughts about it to yourself. If I hear you say one word about not being totally in love with me, I'll cut out your tongue. If you flinch or pull away when I kiss you, I'll—" Okay, so it was totally easy to fall back into the threats and she was positive she'd gotten that point across anyway.

"Fine. Skip the reasons why you've completely lost your mind. Jus' tell me what's in it for me." Head tilted to the side, avid interest making him focus sharply on the misleadingly diminutive pocket-rocket, he eyed her up and down to make sure this was the same blonde that had kicked him up and down Sunnydale in the past. It was funny. Before tonight, he would never have suspected the Slayer was operating on only half her marbles, but obviously he'd kissed her senseless without even knowing it.

Buffy grimaced and knew she looked in pain. And she was really, but self-preservation had her straightening her spine and subconsciously pushing her chest out.

"If you behave like a good boy, and make sure nobody suspects this dumb engagement is phony, I'll…I'll—" She gulped, hard, and sucked up her courage while determinedly ignoring the misery that made her want to weep at the injustice of it all.

"You'll what? Feed me my blood naked?" He chuckled as Buffy nearly fell over in shock. Her disgust couldn't be any more obvious as she took a frantic step away from him and clutched at her objecting stomach.

The hate she felt was immeasurable as she stared him down, imagining torturing him with fifty stakes just missing that one big target on his chest. His completely clothed, revolting chest. Buffy felt the bile rise as latent memory of her body experiencing his not so many hours ago struck her almost off her feet.

As much as it had to continue, it also had to stop—and preferably with her life and reputation intact. Desperation fuelled her impulsive stupidity and Buffy blurted her offer before she agreed to something even more idiotic.

"I'll help you get the chip out of your head."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"God, do you ever shut up?"

Spike snorted. "I find it helps me not to run screaming that the Slayer's gone crackers. You want me to keep that little nugget of information to myself, you'll get used to the chatter." His expression fell to mild amusement; Spike knew it was bound to annoy.

He really hadn't bargained on the implacable hand that seized his throat and shoved him dangerously into the nearest tree, though.

Buffy nearly growled in his face, just barely controlling the hand that wanted to pop his head right off his shoulders. "You say one teensy little thing about me to any of your demon buddies and your dust won't be needing to get rid of any chip. Got it?"

It wouldn't be so farfetched to describe his enemy's eyes as glittering with insanity. Wasn't like he didn't already suspect she'd gone carrot top, so the added touch of her obviously unhinged mind made him all the more alert.

Careful to not activate his own personal little head-kicker, Spike shrugged away from her, his hands balled up into helpless fists of rage. Silence reigned as they started walking again, Spike sniffing the air to make sure all good little commandos were at home in bed. It took a while to re-establish his priorities, but once he remembered the hell of being caught and helpless with no option to even move beyond stark white walls, he felt himself calming fractionally.

It had been an exhausting night, and one he'd really love to forget. He couldn't believe how much a witch's bitch he'd been and if he hadn't wanted to drain the little redhead dry before he'd been defanged, the desire was almost making his body thrum with violent dislike now.

It was interesting how she'd completely manipulated his feelings. He could still remember the pleasure of having the spellbound and willing Slayer writhe in his lap; could remember the happiness he'd felt to know he was going to belong to someone again—someone who enjoyed running her fingers through his hair. Just the way she'd teased his lips, barely tasting while she did nothing but hold his hand. Did nothing but love him with her heart rather than her body. He'd felt every false emotion and taken it deeply inside himself until he was positive this woman—this bane of his existence—was the one he'd wanted forever in his life.

Except it was nothing but a bad dream and being woken amidst the poison of it—her lips still showing him what his life could have been—made him want to beat someone very bloody. Red should thank her lucky stars he'd been rendered a vampire with no bite.

The night was quiet—except for the thundering heartbeat of the Slayer. They walked closely at each other's side, darting uncomfortable glances at one another. Buffy's body buzzed and the closer they made it back to Giles's, the sicker she felt. How was she going to pull this off? While she obviously didn't want the demon public to work out that she was under the influence of magic while she was macking incessantly on Spike, she also felt humiliated that Willow now knew how easy it was to influence her. Her emotions were divided up into so many segments of bad right now that she felt venom just tickling the edge of her tongue.

Despite it being night and her usual patrolling time, Buffy felt surprised to be faced by another vampire. She'd been so lost in thought about the one right beside her that she'd forgotten she had a job to do. This one looked scared, but quickly relaxed once he realised who he'd managed to cross paths with.

"Oh hey! Congratulations," he said, a huge smile eclipsing the ugly ridged face. He extended a hand out to a befuddled Spike, shaking it enthusiastically while he looked between the two blondes. "So, you're gonna make the Slayer go easy on us now, right? I mean, getting married will mean some kind of compromise, right?" He was nodding avidly, grinning in confidence right up until he splintered into dust.

"Ugh! I was so hoping this hadn't gotten out. What a disaster." Buffy shook her head and flopped down on a nearby headstone. This rated right up there with attempting to flash Xander when he'd done that stupid love spell—only worse, because at least she could hit Xander if he made fun of her. Realisation brought her the first smile post-Willow's spell. She could hit Spike too—a lot. In fact…

Spike reacted to the sudden malicious glee sparkling in the Slayer's eyes with an incredulous arch of his brow. "You realise that looking at me like I'm the most deformed bug you ever put out of it's misery with your oh-so-sexy boot is going to put the kibosh on this romantic idea of yours that we're still engaged. Your friends are pretty stupid, but even they won't buy you being in love with me if I have blood spurting out my nose."

Crap. She hated it when he made sense and thought things out faster than she did. A great wave of hopelessness washed over her and left Buffy feeling limp and wrung out. As convincing as her first post-spell public kiss with Spike had evidently been—what with the Xander mock-heavage—Buffy was reasonably certain that she wasn't going to be able to easily partake in nuptial-like kissage again in front of her friends without leaving meal remnants all over the place.

This plan was going to need some more thought, and while she was thinking about it, she needed to keep herself and Spike away from anyone she knew. Which meant that either Spike was spending the night with her instead of tied up at Giles's, or she was going to get over her revulsion at being close to Spike in a big hurry.

Buffy took a deep breath, turned to look at Spike and felt the pitch of her stomach as it objected strongly to what she knew she had to do. "We have a problem."

Spike raised the obligatory brow and sneered. Not many could simultaneously attempt that trick without falling over, but Spike's century of practise time had obviously gone to good use. "Check your pronouns. I'm pretty sure it's YOU who has the problem."

And she really should have known he'd make this crap all about her.

He was so right though. She i _did /i _ have a problem, and if the swaggering congratulations that came off the lips of the second vampire to approach them wasn't enough to emphasise the seriousness of said problem, Buffy didn't know what was.

"Heard you're taking the plunge, ole Spike." This one almost slipped to a stop, the alcohol he'd imbibed obviously not something his now-dead body had taught him meant little in the way of real intoxication now that he lacked the blood flow to his head. He played the drunk more than convincingly, though the fangs that dripped as his eyes fell on the little bride-to-be and coursed up and down her body was enough to give away how much he wasn't.

"How 'bout you show some respec' for 'ole Spike's' woman, and get your bloody evil eyes off her, you sleazy bastard." Spike dragged himself to his full height—several inches shorter than Leery, but still a hell of a lot more imposing—and waited for the intruder to back down. Not once did it occur to him to wonder why he was willing to risk being beaten down by one of his own kind and his own little secret getting out, all to protect the reputation of his supposed betrothed. Before his opponent could make a decision that might be less than favourable for Spike, he crumpled into even greasier ash. Spike pursed his lips and glared at the Slayer. As much as he should have been grateful for the Slayer's interference, all he really wanted to do was slit her throat.

"It might not be the best thing for you to be out here. We don't know if those soldier guys are hiding in the bushes, and trying to take on a demon to protect my virtue is so not smart." Buffy didn't think Spike could sense how impressed she'd been that he instinctively did that—though those moments curled up in his lap and being told the true extent of his unnatural love should have warned her of the possibility. He was a proud vamp, and Buffy suspected that even if it weren't true, that the demon population now seemed clued in to their possible joining and he wasn't rushing in to disabuse them of the fact, she owed him something.

Like not puking in his face while they practised kissing and trying to get to a point of enjoying it.

"You don't say?" His face was so screwed up with distaste that Buffy was sure he'd tasted poison at some stage just so he could get that exact look as accurate as possible. "But then I'm not the one stalling getting back to Rupes. Poor twit must be worried sick about me by now. Shame on you for pushing him into an early grave."

The only word that could describe the way he tore his cigarettes from an inner pocket of his duster was violent. He was obviously angry and Buffy gulped. For the first time, she realised that it wasn't just her own aversion to Spike intimacy that had to be taken into account in this ill-thought out plan of hers. He didn't look like he'd be knocking down her door for the opportunity to rehearse more of their supposedly awkward passionate embraces.

"I can't take you back to Giles's place. Not yet. Not until we have this whole sitch worked out and flawless."

His interest was definitely piqued by that. "Flawless? So, you think we need practise?"

Buffy's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Think? I KNOW we need practise. I think it's pretty safe to assume that the next time I have to let you suck my face off that there won't be a handy bush for me to relieve my disgust."

Spike scowled before releasing an angry plume of smoke. "And what makes you think I'll go along with your crackpot plan? I don't even know why you've got your knickers in a twist about something so trivial, but I'll let you have this one. Anyone who has spent a prolonged period in the company of Peaches has to be a few screws loose. I just haven't decided if I'm going to let you drag me into it."

Buffy felt speared by a panic so wild and crazy that she almost lost her mind. She jumped off her headstone seat and bore down on Spike hard, her fists immediately full of his lapels as she hauled him as close to her face as she could get him without their lips meeting. "You are so with the plan. If you aren't with the plan, then you'll be impersonating Buffy's dusty ex-fiance. Got it?"

Spike carefully pried her hands off his coat and took a very large step back. "Anyone told you the pressure's going to your head?"

Buffy slumped in defeat. She was going to end up dead, all because Willow couldn't handle her grief like a normal person. Did anyone see her summon up spells to make her feel better when Angel canon-balled out of her life? She could see it now; Spike drinking down at Willy's—once he'd regained his over-confident footing—and bragging about how the only way he'd ever lock lips with the Slayer was through some barmy spell laid on by her own best friend. Perfect. She might as well just hand her neck over to the next vamp that ambled on by.

"I guess this just totally excites you, doesn't it? Couldn't kill me yourself, but it won't dampen the pleasure to see someone else come along and spell me still while they chomp on my throat." Her legs felt weak and Buffy couldn't even see the point of remaining on her feet. She fell like a stone to the ground and hung her head.

Spike stood transfixed. It had never occurred to him that someone else could finally have his good day and kill the Slayer. The thought was more than disturbing. It was wrong and it made him furious. If she was going to perish at all, it was going to be on his watch. On his fangs—and no government organisation was going to stop him. And little witches with red hair and inappropriate grieving mechanisms were even less likely to be forgiven for getting in his way.

He considered her, a slayer-shaped puddle in a demon breeding ground, and he felt a small measure of affection. She was his, whether she knew it or not. He couldn't blame her for her ignorance—he'd only worked it out himself. But now that he knew, he had to protect her until he could take her out himself.

"Get up then. Where do you want to take this? Your mum's? I think your dorm room might be safe. I'm betting the witch is paying penance with the Watcher as we speak. She'll probably wait there all night."

Buffy looked up, feeling insanely hopeful and wondering why that didn't disturb her more. Here she was, contemplating the best venue to go perfect her Spike-kissing technique and she was feeling more relieved than incensed. Willow's spell had definitely rocked the world off its axis. She thought the redhead could possibly have more penance to pay than just Giles.

"Mom's out of town on some Gallery business. Maybe…we could go there?" Why did she feel guilty about inviting a boy home to make-out? Buffy blushed a fiery red and wondered why her life had to be so bizarre.

"Right then. Off to Joyce's." Spike snagged her hand and hauled her to her feet, Buffy's eyes filled with confusion and suspicion.

"Why are you suddenly so cooperative?" Buffy wasn't moving, her feet planted firmly on the ground while Spike worked through tight lips, a sneer of irritation, and then a gust of pure frustration.

"Don't bloody know, all right? I just am. Go with it." Hand in hand they walked toward Revello Drive, and Buffy didn't flinch even once.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much to my betas: Holly, slackerace and Schehrezade. Your suggestions are simply invaluable.**

**Chapter Three**

The hard part wasn't scrambling up her tree and swinging up onto the roof. Nor was it prying open her window and slipping inside. Watching Spike follow with an incredibly sexy grace wasn't so much with the hardship either, and nor was observing him shrug off his coat and drape it lazily over the back of her dresser chair. The hard part almost viciously slapped her in the face when Spike puckered up and stepped toward her.

Buffy jumped back so fast she bumped the back of her knees and toppled gracelessly onto her bed, her hair flinging around her head so that she couldn't see anything around her.

"Smooth, Slayer. But I wouldn't recommend that move in front of your mates."

Buffy blew the hair out of her face furiously. Spike had ridden her nerves tonight almost past her breaking point, and he just never let up. "I'm not stupid enough to go with your recommendations, Spike. If I want to fall over backwards in order to avoid your lips, I totally will. I'm the Slayer, not…not…HARMONY!"

Spike chuckled. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, luv. But if it warms you up at all, you kiss better than her. Now lay one on me."

"You're comparing me to Harmony now?" Could he i **be**_ /b _any tackier? She didn't have to be told that she kissed better than Harmony. On a good day, Buffy could do anything better than Harmony. If she so chose, she could even out-bimbo the biggest of all bimbos, and nothing Spike could say would convince her otherwise.

"Well, not so much. Besides, in certain areas, you'd completely lose, Slayer. Now let's get down to business." Spike looked completely unrepentant of the insults he was laying on thick and fast and Buffy felt her anger swell toward a point of explosion.

"I'd lose? Why you…you chip-headed, bimbo-screwing loser. NO WAY would I EVER lose to Harmony."

Spike blatantly stared at her chest and Buffy felt mortified beyond belief. How DARE he imply her boobies were less spectacular just because they didn't bounce off her body and slap people in the face? He was so going to die. After she broke off this farce of an engagement—and after she'd made Willow die painfully for making her resort to this horror story in the first place—no one would even question why she'd done it with a stake to the groom's blackened heart.

"Do NOT open your mouth." Buffy held her finger up in warning, just daring him to tempt how far she was willing to let him go before she rid the world of him for good.

The bastard smirked at her, far too confident for his own good. "Don't fret, Slayer. They did get in the way. Never believe a bloke when he says bigger is better. Bint always knocked things over. I'm willing to bet your little mouthfuls will taste like gold."

Buffy almost squeaked. "There will be no mouthfuls of gold. NO mouthfuls, period. Keep your mind on the kissage and forget any other dirty, nasty little thoughts you might be having."

And again with the strutting, Buffy too late realising she'd issued a challenge when she was ridiculously cornered on her own bed. Spike placed one knee on the mattress beside her and then she b **did /b **squeak, her heart thumping in horror as another knee settled too close to her hip and his face took up all her vision.

Bile rose furiously in her throat and it took everything Buffy had to not throw up in his face. Still, slamming him in the chest and sending him flying across the room to hit her bedroom wall was totally a knee-jerk reaction to having his lips too close to her face.

Spike hit the floor on his ass, sweeping back to his feet and advancing back to her bed with a menacing tread that sent a thrill racing up Buffy's spine. "What the bleeding fuck is your problem, bitch?"

"I-I didn't mean to do that. Really, I didn't. I'm sorry?" She cringed at how that came out, but the anger was back in seconds as Spike treated her to snarled contempt.

"What, you b **are /b ** sorry, or are you asking me if you should be?"

"I am sorry. I just…really don't want to kiss you." Buffy cringed as Spike completely stopped moving. The artificial breaths he liked to pretend he needed ceased and she suddenly felt like she was looking at a statue instead of the not-so-living vampire that she'd been cheated of killing all fair and square.

"Well," he started slowly, "why didn't you say so?" He causally backed up, grabbed his coat and started shrugging it over his shoulders.

Buffy watched enraptured. She was mesmerised by the way he moved—by the way he didn't once look out of place, even though he was in a very girly bedroom that belonged to the executioner of his kind. It wasn't until he swung a leg over the windowsill that she panicked, seeing her death at the hands of some over-zealous magician in what could be a matter of days.

"Wait!" She was on her feet and dragging him roughly through the window in seconds, not stopping until she'd thrown him onto her bed and slammed the window shut. "Did I say you could leave?" Buffy was panting, adrenaline fuelling her with all sorts of confident purpose.

Spike leaned up on his elbows and raised a brow. "The way I see it, I'm doing you a favour. If you're just gonna toss your cookies in my face, I've got chairs I'd rather be chained to. Now make up your mind about what you want to do, and bleeding well do it."

Buffy glared at him, balled her hands into fists, glared some more, and then wilted. What choice did she have? Conquering Spike's lips was the only way to make sure she didn't become the laughing stock of the demon world—she was going to conveniently forget the potential fodder for Xander jokes till the end of time—or vulnerable to any organised magic attack.

"Okay, I can do this." Buffy narrowed her gaze and wondered if it would matter if Spike was bleeding from a couple of really prominent places before she placed her precious lips on his gross ones. He wasn't moving, and Buffy swallowed down the nausea that wanted release as she tried to crawl up his body without touching him. When his lips were within reach, Buffy scrunched her eyes shut, screwed her face up in revulsion while pursing her lips and pushing them out, and waited.

The second Spike's cool lips touched hers, a rapid white heat seared her flesh and she jerked back in shock.

Spike hissed loudly in annoyance. "You need to put more oomph into it, Slayer. At your Watcher's, you were all over me. Your hot little hands delving into places they really shouldn't have been. You were a firecracker."

"I was not!"

"You bloody well were." Huffy Spike bordered on cute and Buffy was so not having him divert her with flirty tactics.

"It was a spell!" she protested confidently. "There is nothing in real life that could possibly induce me to love you like that stupid spell forced me to do. Everything from now on is acting—honest-to-goodness drama theatre of the highest calibre, and you'd better put in the show of your life or it won't be worth much by the end of this."

Spike's jaw ticked, savage anger just humming on the edge of his control. The only thing holding him back was that chip. What he wouldn't give to dive for her throat right now. He could smell the blood that taunted him just far enough away to be safe, and his fangs stung his gums in desperate need to pierce her skin. He sneered at her as she was suspended over him, hardly believing the comedy hour that had brought him to this. "You know what? There isn't anything remotely enticing enough for me to continue trying to help you and be abused for it. Not even your wonky promise of getting the chip out. Take me back to the Watcher's right now."

Okay, the constant threats to make him dusty? So not the best way to get him to agree to this joke of an engagement. As much as they had still managed to snark at each other under the spell, no one was going to buy it if he was always bruised and bloody around her. And now that she'd had time to step back and consider the consequences of letting people know she'd succumbed to Willow's will, the more terrified she became at being someone's magic monkey bitch in the future. She needed Spike and she needed this kissing thing to work.

There was no holding back the pleading look of desperation as Buffy resolved to be good. i _Whatever it takes! /i _Whatever she had to do to gain Spike's cooperation, it was a done deal as far as she was concerned.

"Let me have a taste."

Ewwww! Okay, so maybe not quite a done deal. "Are you completely suicidal?" It suddenly occurred to Buffy that she was still stretched over Spike and that he'd been eyeing her neck. Oh no! She wasn't going there again. Saving Angel's life—while almost at the cost of her own—so did not come even close to paying Spike the debt she'd owe him for just a few kisses and some hand-holding.

"You want me to do this thing, then there has to be something in it for me." His eyes shone uncompromisingly and Buffy shivered. Determined Spike was quite powerful—how could she have forgotten?

"There is something in it for you—the chip goes bye-bye. And that has nothing to do with you hanging from my neck." Hey, she could be just as stubborn and scary. "I'll get you some quality human blood from somewhere. I'll even drain some of mine into a mug, but you are so not sticking your filthy fangs into my flesh. Who knows where they've been?"

Spike smirked knowingly—though Buffy was unsure of what exactly he thought he knew—and suddenly jerked up, his crotch connecting with hers and knocking her off balance. Before she could scream, before she could yak all over him and her bed, one of his hands curved vice-like around her skull and hauled her in for a kiss.

The second their flesh met, Buffy lost her breath.

Reason evaporated into thin air and she existed as nothing solid but sensory cells, being fed and nurtured by lips that were soft, plush, tasty and sensuous. Her lids dropped closed and she forgot everything as the tip of Spike's tongue traced a line along her bottom lip. Sucked gently between both of his, her lower lip tingled and her body went molten with heat. Flittering memories made an effort to remind her why she shouldn't be enjoying this so much, but Irrational!Buffy blocked them out and lost herself to pleasure.

Her body felt his hand at her waist but her brain blocked it out. Anything that was remotely good feeling and connected to Spike was being intentionally ignored until she decided she didn't need his kisses anymore. Until her body remembered it had its own life support system and Spike's mouth was just really, really clever at convincing her otherwise.

By the time Spike poked his tongue into her mouth, she was incoherent and lying flush against his body, obscene bulges and all. He smoothly played over her teeth, enticed her own tongue into this mysterious dance of desire—of seduction. What they were doing now was shared and Buffy found, for one fleeting second, that she was drawn back into a world where the spell was her reality and she was truly in the arms of the man that meant to marry her and treat her forever as his beloved.

It was a beautiful fantasy, and not one that was quick to fade even as Spike dragged his lips away and stared into dazed, confused eyes, his body flush and warm underneath slayer weight.

"Is that enough practise, pet?" His eyes glittered as he searched her expression hopefully.

If she'd required proof before that this whole plan was insane, all she needed was the galloping beat of her heart and the searing heat scarring against every point her body met with his.

Her fingers twisted his stiffened curls, her lips already puckered and prepared, and Buffy unconsciously lowered her voice to a husky whisper she'd never even heard before. "Not even close."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Her chest heaved.

Buffy stared at her bedroom ceiling, a sheet wrapped tightly around her naked body, and panted like she'd just managed to topple Jack's wily giant. Colours were vivid, sounds over-loud, and Spike quite shockingly lay beside her. Equally naked. And gasping.

They both silently observed the drift of shadows across the ceiling and grasped for the key that would make sense of everything again. Spike felt suddenly desperate for a cigarette, puzzling on how much one of 'those' moments sex with the Slayer actually was, and cursing the fact that his coat was out of arms reach. He wasn't moving—even if his body was capable of it. Slayer had quite shockingly wiped him out, and not even Dru or Harmony had been able to do that. He'd just have to deal with the earth-shattering consequences which had drained him of all his vigour and hope he could drag his ass out of trouble before the Slayer got all fired up with a handy stake.

Unless she got fired up again for completely different reasons.

Still, wouldn't do to suddenly derail the line of thinking that had his self-preservation at the top of the list. There was no explanation for what just happened—and he wasn't going to deceive himself that it didn't blow all his preconceived notions about the Slayer and Angelus's taunts about her right out of the water. Girl had skills and he'd be willing to get several more chips in his head if it meant she'd squeeze him again between her heavenly thighs.

Might be closer to the mark to expect her to retch on her pretty carpet, though. Rolling his eyes, Spike swept his hand lazily over the side of the bed, his gaze refusing to shift from the pornographic shadow show above him, and bumped into the Slayer's wastebasket. Snagging the rim, he quickly upended it and passed it casually over to his reluctant bed partner.

She took it, finally looking at him with a raised brow.

"Better to hurl now, luv. Get all the nastiness out of the way."

Her smile was so light and pretty that he almost embarrassed himself by leaning forward to snatch an impromptu, un-practise-worthy kiss. "Strangely, Spike, yakking is not my first impulse right now."

That stopped him in his tracks good and proper. The automatic innuendo was tickling his tongue to get out there and do damage, but Spike was strangely reluctant to destroy the mood that could quite possibly lead to something unexpected.

"Well, that's…good, right?" He couldn't hold back the irrepressible grin that curled his lips at her carefree smile. Listening to Angelus for months on end berate her looks and skills had been the only reason Spike had ever contemplated the physical side of this Slayer, but now that he was in her bed, his dick weak from hours of enthusiastic shagging, Spike marvelled at how pretty she could be.

"God yes. It'll be heaps easier to convince Giles that this wedding is real and that I didn't get whacked in the head and am operating under some weird delusional episode."

They both fell to silence, the awkwardness of lying naked in bed next to your long-recognised mortal enemy suddenly taking both of them some time to deal with.

Spike chanced a lightning fast glance to the woman at his side and grimaced at the flush on her skin and the white fist that held her covers to her chin. Her eyes now betrayed some of the horror that her smile had momentarily hidden, and Spike felt his spirits sink. He'd been expecting the customary punch to the nose—figuring he'd almost deserve something a little more violent considering where some innocent practise kissing had led them. Still, the shared moment just now had been more than nice and Spike already knew he was going to add the last three hours to his list of grievances when he made the witch's throat his fountain.

"The Watcher's not going to buy it, you know." He really needed to learn when to keep his gob shut. There was no fun in watching her eyes narrow at him and that steely mask fall into place that proved to him there was little difference between the Slayer side and the girl intent on proving something.

"We'll make him buy it."

His brow rose at her determination, and for the first time Spike wondered why keeping this charade going meant so much to her. Why she was acting all desperate and pushing beyond her natural repulsion of him to become as intimate as they'd obviously been.

"Slayer, I want to crush your interfering little friend too, but what exactly is this?" He expected her to tell him to shut up while she turned away to think. Never in a million years would he have thought she'd willingly turn to him for comfort, yet Buffy turned watery eyes to him and sniffled. He was a complete ponce, but there was no holding William back when there was a girl in hug's reach with watering eyes.

The sudden insight the interlude gave him made Spike wonder if he shouldn't learn to cherish these small William-inspired moments of clarity. He could see it now—Buffy was acting all weak and kitteny and it was an incarnation of this slip of a girl that Spike had never seen before.

Not that he'd wanted to.

He'd imagined her in many different ways—begging for her life, gurgling for air as he drank her down, staring unseeing into death as he snapped her neck and dropped her to the ground. Never had he really imagined her alive—or with the full range of emotions. He'd tried to block those out as much as he could. Emotions always got him into trouble and as unruly as his own were, Spike was avidly determined to not get caught up in anyone else's. Still, he knew what it was to be weak in the face of your enemy and now he understood why it was so important to continue the ruse.

It was knowledge that should have filled him with glee. He'd been pretty slow on the uptake or he probably would have destroyed her hopes of keeping it quiet while the repentant witch was back to blubbering apologetically. Power gave the redhead an arrogance that only misdirection and mistake sporadically stole away.

And Buffy didn't want the chit to know how easily she'd been controlled.

It didn't take much imagination to know what possible scenario that kind of knowledge could conjure up in the future. A taunting barb hesitated on the tip of his tongue, but Spike crushed it before it could taint the air. As much as he wanted the blood of the Slayer on his own hands, it wouldn't do for anyone to know how easily i _he'd /i _ been controlled. As much as he hated it, he was in the same boat as Buffy. He was as weak as a kitten right now—couldn't kill his natural prey, couldn't defend himself against demons weaker than him, and now a nerdy little college student had got her rocks off by tying him to his biggest enemy.

Yeah, he could see why the Slayer wasn't rushing in to scold Willow for making her a magical experiment gone wrong. The way he saw it, the git and his girl took their near-death a little too easily when it came to forgiving the one who'd petulantly set them on a one way track to a violent and grizzly end. Not that it was his place to wonder why a thousand year old ex-vengeance demon took an attempt on her life with such calm grace. He doubted that it was anything less than the fact that she knew that Buffy was as helpless as he now considered i _himself /i _ to be, at least in the face of Red's overwhelming power.

Right then. So it was in his best interests to play along—not that he was stupid enough to admit it. Particularly as his cooperation could well reward him with getting the chip out of his melon.

"What this is—" Buffy stated in a quiet, resigned voice, "is my death if it gets out how easily I can be controlled by magic. Every demon out there will pick up the Idiot's Guide to Killing the Slayer. I may as well get ready for the end now."

Brilliant. He'd never even thought of that. Not that he would have chosen to do anything the easy way. And in his mind, magic was a cake walk. If he wanted to take out the Slayer, he was going to earn the reputation that came automatically with her last tortured breath. He wasn't going to have some wanker on an ego-trip come in and take away the glory.

Not that the thought of some other bastard stepping in and taking her out of his picture sat at all well. The vision of this pesky blonde broken and bleeding at his feet had sustained him through the hatred and fury of sitting in that bleeding chair for the broken months of his first year in this hell hole. Since locking lips with her earlier in the day, though, that image didn't garner half as much pleasure as it used to. And especially not now that she'd scorched his cock with the fire of her life.

He recognised now that he was in quite a bind. He was perhaps the most Victorian vampire that ever roamed the earth, but all those years of faithful love for Dru had been real. And just because he'd lost himself for one blisteringly stupid moment in the extremely vacuous presence of Harm, it didn't mean that he suddenly had a different standpoint when it came to his lovers. While it was true that this thing—whatever it was—with the Slayer would doubtful have happened without the witch taking the easy way out of her grief, the undeniable truth was staring at his cock as it hardened once again under the stark white sheet. He'd not only had sex with the bane of his existence, he'd shagged her sideways until her head lolled and her eyes stared past his shoulder in a stupor. And he'd enjoyed it.

Scratch that. It was a bloody revelation. A huge high from which he had barely started to come down. If she wasn't so liable to stick a stake in his chest, he'd go so far as to say she was his perfect match.

Poetic words began to bubble in his brain and Spike slammed the lid down on that fast. It was one thing to allow his body to be vulnerable to the Slayer, but it was quite another to allow his emotions to boil over and expose his pathetic, romantic heart.

As quickly as his mind changed track in regards to the Slayer, Spike just as quickly realised the mistake it would be to let her know it. Only hours earlier she'd been bringing up her lunch at the thought of kissing him. Things had fast tumbled out of control—as the scent of her sweat and her thumping heartbeat could strongly testify—but that didn't mean the queen of all things denied was going to suddenly cope with their new status as lovers.

The silence was becoming uncomfortable and Spike belatedly realised that the one woman who constantly told him to shut up was waiting for him to say something.

"Hadn't thought of that," he threw out dumbly. Well, he'd had other things on his mind! His entire evil existence was being called into question and the last thing he'd been focusing on was her statement. Well, yeah, it had been a part of his ruminations—but other, more athletic images had fast taken hold of his imagination.

Buffy released a long held breath and glared at him.

"Don't go getting any less-than-brilliant ideas, Spike. When that chip is out, I can go straight back to killing you. This is NOT something I'm going to allow to get out. I might have an early shelf-life but I'm not going down just because Willow's exposed me for the mere mortal I truly am." Her lip wobbled despite her iron control, and Spike was mesmerised. Feelings he didn't want stirred in his gut and fuelled the erection he was going to have real trouble controlling now that he had seen beneath the bitchy exterior Buffy had always shown him.

Propping himself up on his elbow, Spike traced her trembling lips with a cautious finger, and knew. He was going to do anything she wanted him to do and his future in this town was doomed. He was never going to be anything but whipped in the eyes of love—and though he may not feel that way for her yet, he knew it was only a matter of time.

"How 'bout we call a truce?" His voice was husky in the eye of her suspicion, but then he leaned forward and kissed her and mutual desire dimmed the need.

Buffy surrendered, though she had no clue why she was giving in so easily to Spike when he could turn on her at any time and lead a revolt against her. And now he had the knowledge, he'd more than likely win.

She was holding on to the hope that he wasn't like that. Not really. He liked guts and glory—or so he professed—and using a witch to incapacitate her so he could rip out her throat seemed so beneath him. But then again…she could so spell evil assassins.

She'd worry about it tomorrow. Tonight she had a plan—one that somehow ended up with her in bed with Spike and weird scary sensations swirling crazily in her stomach. Still, it was a plan, and if luck was finally on her side, it would keep her alive and safe from suddenly inspired sneaky magic attacks.

And as she was finding, Spike lips weren't so icky after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"Stop that!" Xander glared at Buffy, his left eye twitching as he rapidly glanced back and forth between where she sat on Spike's knees to the vampire with the missing arm up the back of Buffy's powder blue top. He knew because—despite it being a tight top—he was seeing too much of the exact shape of her breasts as Spike pulled the fabric taut. And nipples. He was being stared down by very hungry looking nipples—and tragically he was not on the menu.

"Stop what?" Buffy asked, her face blank and concentrated on something other than her miserably confused friend.

Xander blanched, thinking his objections should be more than obvious with the almost stabbing out of his own eyes. Giles should think himself lucky he missed the prelude to this horror story.

"Stop letting the freaky undead touch you."

Buffy froze and struggled with the overwhelming impulse to bop her friend in the nose. Not because he was insulting Spike—because she totally was on the same page there. _Wasn't she? _But shouldn't he want her to be happy? No matter whom she was with? He didn't know that this engagement was a farce. Willow's timely spell removal should have been the point where Buffy received at least one full platter of guilt cookies—in his eyes at least. He didn't know, and yet he was judging her. Admittedly, the concept of her and Spike joined for eternity in the eyes of God was a little far on the side of overwhelming—and hilarious. Buffy could accept that, but still…what if it was real and she really had discovered something incredible in Spike?

What if having a night of amazing sex had been backed up by real emotions and possibly even…love?

Buffy shivered and quickly reprimanded herself for wandering back along that path. The sun had risen on her returning conscience that morning, and she'd been horrified—though blissfully satiated like she'd never imagined possible. But it was bad to keep remembering the little details—like how frenzied coupling had eventually given way to tender kisses and touches that Buffy would have believed only possible between two people deeply in love with each other.

The last few times he'd gazed deeply into her eyes. The movie cliché words were absent, but something burned into her soul with the flashing blue and amber and the soft lips that somehow began the process of melting her heart.

So when she woke, her body buzzed and her mind was screaming while Spike's overly-bleached head rested below the pillow of her breasts. He hadn't appeared heavy at all. He didn't consume her like Angel—nor did he spit her out the morning after. Instead he'd sleepily consumed her nipple until she'd been screaming for him to release her in all the ways possible to women.

His fingers were teasing the skin of her back even now and more often than not, Buffy had to strain to focus on something other than the tingling sensation of his touch. Like Xander. Who was gawking rather unattractively at her overly prominent boobies.

Buffy leapt from Spike's lap like a scalded cat. If there was one place she _really _had no intention of visiting right now, it was the school library, particularly while wearing a sexy and obscenely short black coat with nothing underneath.

"You said Willow made cookies? Wow, she was industrious yesterday, huh?" And she tore into the kitchen before she died of embarrassment.

Willow was shaking against the bench, her back turned toward the entrance and Buffy. It was probably too much to hope for that she was laughing, but suddenly Buffy didn't care if she was sobbing. Best friends didn't do things like this to each other. Nobody had really been there for her when Angel left. All she'd received was an overly enthusiastic command to consider the rat-fink qualities of Parker. And look where that had landed her. She could have just continued grieving and never even considered the guy and her reputation and pride would still be in place.

She could have waited for Spike.

Which wouldn't have happened if Willow had thought before using magic to heal her pain.

Crap. And she was right back where she started from.

Was she grateful for the spell then? It was hard to know whether having the experience of Spike had been a good thing. In the short-term, it had cured her of wanting physical intimacy with anyone—but him. Each hour she alternated between marvelling how Drusilla could give him away so easily—and hating the bitch for holding his heart. Which was way too confusing. Did she want Spike's heart to be free?

Ignoring Willow and her possible epileptic fit, Buffy peered through the nook window and watched Spike. He was in a stare-down with Xander and it almost made her giggle. It did make her smile, though it froze in amazement for what happened next.

Xander leaned forward in his chair, glared hard at his enemy, then thrust out his hand. Spike stared at it like it was a snot-covered and oozing demon appendage, then sneered. Just as Xander was about to pull his hand back with renewed disgust, Spike seized it and pumped it twice before letting it go and wiping his hand on his pants.

"Congratulations," Xander said. "So…when's the big day?"

_Oh boy. _

Spike whipped his head around to catch Buffy in mid-panic and raised a perfectly scarred brow. Had he always done that? And did he know how sexy it looked? Buffy didn't know, but vowed it was something she—as his fiancé—had to find out.

"That—all depends." Whoa, it was kind of hard to ad-lib the details of such life-altering and yet untrue occasions.

"On what? On when you come to your ever-loving senses?" Xander joked, though he hiccupped and looked ready to burst into tears.

"On when everyone's available, silly." Buffy attempted what she hoped would pass for one of her sappy grins of yesterday and sagged against the counter as soon as the attention bounced from her and back to her vampire.

_Her _vampire? Oh God. This was turning into a nightmare.

"I don't know how to fix it, Buffy."

Buffy held her breath before turning to face Willow, cringing when she finally witnessed the tears in the redhead's eyes. She i _so /i _ wasn't going to feel guilty for making Willow feel worse. She brought this on, and first and foremost Buffy had to take care of what could potentially kill her—and she had to ignore that her best friend was the one who wielded the weapon of knowledge. She'd always suspected Willow's intelligence would do some damage one day.

"Fix what, Will?"

"The reversal spell cured Giles and Xander. Why didn't it cure you?" Her green eyes were huge with guilt and disappointment. Buffy had no clue why her friend was disappointed, but she was choosing to believe it was because it appeared part of her spell was useless—and she'd failed…yet again.

"It didn't cure me, because there's nothing to cure." Good, she'd got that out without barfing, and if the words actually felt honest, Buffy was going to ignore it.

"A-are you saying that you…you really love Spike?" The incredulous tone actually broke off bone fragments as it grated down her spine. She had no understanding of why, but the disbelief that it was possible seriously annoyed her. Was Willow dictating who she could love now, too?

One look back at the intense vampire and Buffy was struck dumb. What broughthim back here—to her? What was going on around them that had brought them to this?

Yesterday she'd brought up her lunch after realising she'd been kissing Spike all afternoon, and within hours she'd manufactured a reason to kiss him some more—and other, more hands on things. Her reality had shifted and while she may still tell herself she hated him with the fire of a thousand suns, the truth was he was kind of likable—sometimes.

But what kind of explanation would Willow buy without making her think Buffy was still under the influence with the only solution being more of her wonky magic?

"Not love," Buffy mused aloud, but it was enough to spark something. "Are you kidding? We still hated each other yesterday."

Spike was watching her intently, no doubt wondering what tale she was about to spin now and Buffy sucked in a deep breath in hopes she could get a story out without him blowing it.

"When I went out to find him—remember Giles called to say Spike had escaped? Well, I found him outside the building on campus. He was looking for where they'd chipped him and, well—" She paused, wondering just how much was made up and how much could have been the truth if she'd ever been open to him before. "Something changed." There seemed no need for more words. The witch either got it or she didn't—but Buffy believed Willow would get it. She was a smart girl after all.

"I know it did," the redhead whined. "I wished you guys to be married." She stopped suddenly and Buffy turned in time to catch the blush spreading across her cheeks. Willow was embarrassed and it just annoyed the Slayer more.

"That was later," Buffy stubbornly admitted. "I thought it was weird when Spike suddenly blurted it out—because whoever would have thought a slayer and a vampire would do something as conventional as get married? But once I thought about it, it kind of made sense, you know? So I said yes."

"You said yes?" Willow repeated slowly, obviously struggling with the concept while she gawped at Buffy disbelievingly.

"Indeed," Giles confirmed, entering the kitchen behind them. "I rather understand, I think. A-and concur—possibly." He turned to Buffy, understanding and support shining in his eyes as he opened his arms and welcomed her relieved hug. "Are you still wanting me to give you away?"

She laughed. If there was one thing not influenced by the spell, it was wanting Giles to do daddy-duty at her wedding.

"Absolutely!" And she giggled, sagging into his embrace in relief that she didn't have to hide everything she was feeling because at least one person loved her enough to see beyond the surface.

"Well, I guess we have a wedding to plan."

She could feel the heat of Spike's stare the instant the word 'wedding' hit the air and Buffy gasped as she looked up and clashed with the blue of experience and desire. She could see no disappointment, instead encountering a blistering suggestion of encouragement as his lips curled around a sweet smile.

Happiness had never felt this powerful.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Somehow she'd found herself alone with Spike in the dark. Buffy was positive that Giles, Xander and Willow had been with them when they'd all started off heartily for a routine patrol—skilfully avoiding the trip to see Joyce and informing her of the wedding-to-be. But now that they were upon Revello Drive, Buffy finally noticed everyone had wandered off. Everyone, that is, except for Spike. Spike, in his slick leather coat and his big chunky boots. Spike, with his heavy arm getting heavier around her shoulders and with the muscles that could make a girl weep for wanting to touch.

"So, Slayer. Finally we're all on our lonesome."

It was terrifying that Buffy now knew him so well that she didn't need to see the self-satisfied smirk that had always made her fume to know it was there. Now his over-confident swagger routine made her blood run hot and fast.

She felt nervous all of a sudden. The last time she'd been truly alone with Spike, he'd been kissing her senseless outside Giles's front door. If the glint in Spike's eyes right now was self-created and not just a reflection of the street-light, she'd lose no bets that such intimacy was on his mind again.

Buffy gulped, looked down at the ground in an effort to control her breathing and grasp onto reality—her boring, non-Spike-kissing-and-sex reality—and felt the heat of his stare just as powerfully. Her eyes soon recognised the lack of anything interesting to study on the ground and she was back to gazing wantonly at Spike, unable to hide the longing she felt to feel his touch on her skin again.

"You know, without your mates here pushing us toward your mum's, there's no rush to go tell her anything." Spike looked at her suggestively and Buffy realised she didn't need a degree in Parker to understand what Spike had on his mind.

"W-what…um…okay." Was it bad that Buffy was hoping she wasn't wrong with the believing Spike was after something more than her blood on tap?

He bit his lip in that suggestive way that made her weak and wet and jerked his head toward the cemetery they'd been on the verge of leaving. "There's a nice, quiet crypt back there. Might be nice to do some…exploring." Spike's gaze surveyed her from head to toe and then slowly back again, evil totally on his mind as he grinned at Buffy's embarrassed flush.

"That…um…that sounds really…eep—" There was no chance to finish as Spike snagged her hand and tugged her back toward the first promising structure with a door not hanging off its hinges.

It was dark inside and Buffy nervously relied on Spike to guide her. His hand felt uncharacteristically warm in hers and it made Buffy wonder what she was doing here with him. The first time she'd given into his touch it had been a necessary aberration—a lifesaver—that she'd convinced herself she'd needed so she could finally close her eyes and go to sleep. To submit again would be conceding that Willow's spell had more power over her than she'd been willing to admit. Not that she was still being influenced by her friend; her eyes had just been opened to possibilities she'd rather not to have ever caught a glimpse of.

Getting it on with the most evil of her past enemies didn't seem wrong, however. At least, not as wrong as getting it _back _ on with her formerly-evil-turned-soulful ex had seemed. The looks of fear and panic her reunion with Angel had received had been understandable, but other than the expected wig of her friends, they'd accepted the bizarre truth of her intended marriage to Spike with barely a raised brow. They all hated him, none of them trusted him, and yet for the first time, they'd apparently trusted her judgment in men. Although, they'd fully supported her pursuit of Parker and had made as big a mistake as she had, so maybe they'd momentarily backed off from being her moral guide.

Nah. That didn't seem likely. A better explanation would be that they didn't believe her and probably suspected she was just trying to save face.

They wouldn't be thinking that now if they could see Spike leading her into temptation.

She felt his hands circle her waist and he slowly pushed her backwards, stopping only when her butt nudged the hard surface of a sarcophagus. He tenderly lifted her and gently sat her on the lid, stepping into the gap created between her knees and resting his forehead against hers. He was breathing in tremors against her lips and Buffy felt it all the way through her body, his grip still at her waist but his fingers nudging the hem of her top.

"I've been wanting to get you alone ever since you dragged me back through Rupe's door." His soft lips brushed away her reply and Buffy's eyes closed. There was no need to stubbornly try and see into the darkness when there were other more tantalising scenes playing behind her lids.

The kiss burned, lips barely meeting hers as Spike rubbed them sensually back and forth, making her moan desperately for something more—something deeper. And then he was pressing his lips more firmly against hers as his tongue outlined them and then nudged at the slit. Buffy moaned and he seized the opportunity, his tongue crashing through the new opening and sliding against her own. It was bliss—it was torture of the highest scale as Buffy's body exploded with heat and need. Her hands gripped the leather covering his arms and she slid forward just a little so that his pelvis was rubbing against her, allowing her to finally wrap a leg around his hips and haul him closer.

Heart thudding at a life-threatening pace, Buffy couldn't control the urge that had her hands sliding up the smooth cool leather of his coat arms and tangling in the softened curls at the nape of his neck. There was no hurry in the way his hands sought the skin under her shirt, but when he finally made contact Buffy felt like he'd shredded the fabric just to get there. Sensations burst into colours in her head and her body began to rock against the hard barrier keeping her seated and as she found new places to cling to, Buffy realised that she'd never felt anything quite this powerful before.

Nothing inside would allow her to lose the sweet memories she had of Angel. He'd been her heart and her soul for so long and he'd introduced her to the pleasures of the flesh. By no means had it been forgettable. Every second she'd been near him she'd wanted him. Every touch had made her swoon. But this…Spike was boiling her blood and sending it rocketing through her body toward some kind of escalating crescendo that she just knew would be more than she was ready for.

And yet, it was impossible to say no.

"Buffy," he whispered against the corner of her mouth, and then Spike was sweeping kisses over her cheeks, eyes and down to the long column of her neck. He nipped at the point where her blood pulsed against her fragile skin and she couldn't hold back the eager moan. It would be so easy to let things continue. Her body ached for it and Buffy felt like she was beyond controlling anything else anymore. If her body wanted it, and her brain was lethargic in supplying the reasons why it was wrong, shouldn't she just go along with the game? Shouldn't she just submit to Spike's experience and let him fry her brain with lust once again?

There was already too much she didn't understand, and as her misgivings and fears started to fight their way to her conscience, Buffy bestowed a trembling kiss against his eyelid and gently pushed him away. But even though her mind was beginning to reject the easy pleasure she could have, her hands didn't want to surrender his skin so soon and she stroked softly his cheek and then his jaw, shaking with the effort to control the tears threatening to spill at the thwarted love-making.

"This is wrong." The words tumbled past her lips, even though there wasn't one little molecule within her that backed up the claim. Buffy bit her lip against the ache of tears in her throat and struggled to think.

It _was _ wrong.

Yesterday she'd hated Spike with a passion that manifested in physical revulsion, and now…now she couldn't get enough and all her earlier assertions that he was evil and would kill her the second he lost his leash had become far too quiet.

He pulled away, an angry scowl on his face. "Knew it was coming eventually. I'm guessing no shag then?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned quickly from her shocked expression and searched his pockets for a cigarette. The click of the lighter and its accompanying flash of fire startled her—despite it being expected—and Buffy bit down the censorious words that wanted to flay him alive.

Was that all she was to him? Had he brought her here just to get off with her? Maybe getting her hot and willing was just the balm to soothe his battered ego since he'd weakened his image by coming to them for help. She'd thought…well, it was obviously stupid what she'd thought. The feel of him so close to her had made her gag the previous night and she was foolish to think he had been any less revolted by her, and yet through the hours of darkness he'd made love to her body so sweetly that Buffy had forgotten he was evil and dangerous and a monster with whom she should be ashamed of sharing herself.

"No," she spat, feeling her heart shrivelling uncertainly as she stared at where she thought his back was. "No…shag. God, could you be any cruder?"

There was nothing to straighten and Buffy was grateful—though angry—that they hadn't managed to get so far that her clothing would be half askew. Where minutes ago she was vibrating with swirling heat, she was now being chilled with icy confusion coursing through her veins. She wanted to give him the time limit now. She wanted to warn him that it was time to stage a break-up, but her tongue was numb and uncooperative.

There was the loud scraping of his heels as Spike stomped in one direction, clicked his lighter once again to life, and delivered her from darkness. The relief that flooded her senses was enough to make her sweat and crave his arms in a reassuring hug.

Until she saw his face—hardened and unapproachable.

"You don't think your little Scooby gang is gonna find it a bit odd that you want to call it quits so soon after announcing you're not out of your gourd?" The smirk that twisted around the butt between his lips made every foul word Buffy had ever heard rise to the edge of her tongue. She wanted to let fly, she wanted to kick his legs out from under him and remind herself how much she'd enjoyed turning him into Spike-pulp. It was just yesterday. Yesterday she would have gladly staked him if not for the handicap that made him weak and defenceless. Not that he looked it now, standing there the epitome of the Big Bad that had dogged her every step of the way the year she'd met Angelus for real.

Was she ending this too soon? Would 'breaking-up' with Spike now clue her friends into the real reason she'd allowed it to go so far in the first place?

It didn't matter. Allowing this intimacy with Spike to continue was digging her own grave. He confused her too much. He made her body sing and melted her heart where she had once enjoyed its frozen prison. Erecting fences was definitely the best thing for her to do now—but why did it make her feel suddenly hollow?

"They know enough of us both to realise that it would take an act of God to stop us from killing each other eventually. So I don't think us staging a break-up so soon will be an issue."

His glare crushed her and her confusion just stretched out further. How did one night change the game so much that Buffy no longer knew how to interact with her longest-held enemy?

"No."

The cigarette was flicked across the floor and Buffy followed the sparking embers as the tip winked out. Its dying existence seemed to make more sense than Spike's harsh refusal and Buffy felt it difficult to focus on anything else.

"What?"

A stark silence was filled only with her galloping heartbeat and Buffy compulsively held her breath, waiting for his reply.

"I'm not ready for this to be over. I'm not going along with any of your hair-brained impulsive ideas." With vampiric speed he was in her face, his eyes brighter and clearer than she'd ever taken notice of before. "My co-operation has kept your little secret safe and you promised me the chip's removal if I went along with you. Well, until that little goal has been reached, you're my bitch."

Buffy gasped in the face of his rude demands, and yet she was breathless at the return of the Spike she'd first known. He'd always made her sweat when she had to fight him. It would be foolish and untruthful to deny that facing him had always made her consider defeat. Spike may not be able to take her out this second, but Buffy wondered how easy it would be for him to finally kill her when he was strong and unhindered once again.

It hurt.

The possibility that he might still want her dead after what they'd shared only one night ago hurt. They'd been intently working at raising the temperature for the second night running and only her misgivings had put the brakes on that. To think that it all meant nothing, that he felt nothing…it shouldn't matter to her, but it did. It mattered a whole lot that another creature of the night wanted to kill her immediately after making love to her.

It was too much and Buffy felt like she couldn't get enough air. Spike was in her face, fury over something she didn't understand contorting his features, and she could barely breathe.

So she ran.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"Hey, Spike! Where's the little woman tonight?"

Spike glared at the newly-endangered Garouka demon and growled, clenching his fists in spasmodic bursts.

"Bugger off," he snarled before taking a menacing step toward the slithering shell of the smartarse demon.

"Don't tell us she's too ashamed to be seen in public with you?" a voice shouted, inspiring laughter from a crowd of vamps drinking heartily near the back door of Willy's.

He didn't bother with words this time, just stomped over and slammed his fist into the gut of the smallest and shoved his stake into the heart of the largest. The ensuing brawl was just what he needed to pacify the bloodlust he'd been struggling with ever since Miss Prissy Pants had done a runner on him, leaving him alone and frustrated with her heady scent lingering on his skin and clothes. Twenty-four hours had not been enough to cool his temper and receiving taunts from his fellow demons was just the thing to set him right off.

His ire didn't dim until there was a choking haze of vampire dust swirling around the bottom of his coat as he made proper use of the backdoor, leaving Willy's outraged objections in his wake.

There'd been no let up on the destabilising thoughts that had rushed through his head since he'd snapped out of that bleeding head damaging spell. Buffy lips hadn't tasted as hideous as his first reaction had implied. There'd been a tantalising sweetness to her kiss that he'd been keen to recapture the second she'd pulled away, and in many ways he'd been grateful for what her quick thinking self-preservation had handed him on a silver platter: the chance to partake in more glorious snogging. What had happened beyond that he considered as much more than a bonus. It had been a bloody revelation—just like he'd told her—and something Spike was unwilling to lose just yet.

Truthfully, getting the chip out of his head was secondary to sorting out this new motivation to be near the Slayer. Thanks to the misguided witch, a new scenario had provided possibilities and situations that ran on repeat in his head, giving him no peace and an almost painfully permanent erection. Continuing this pretend engagement gave him time—to kiss her, to shag her blind, to sort out this new devotion he had to preserving her life, or to renew his plan to kill her and claim his third slayer. There were too many things he needed time to work out, and she was threatening to take it away from him because she was scared of how things were changing.

Yesterday she'd needed him to keep her alive—even if indirectly—and today she wanted him gone. The speed of it was whiplash-inducing and Spike wanted to rip her head off her shoulders for making him feel so uncertain about himself and what he wanted.

What he needed.

He'd enjoyed being seen as her beau. He'd enjoyed seeing the shock on the idiot boy's face and then the stilted acceptance. The guilt on Red's face had fed his need for vengeance, and his liking of her dimmed accordingly. No one bloody manipulated him with witchcraft and got away with it—and nobody was going to be stronger than Buffy and get an even more swelled head.

Rupert knew. The way the older man hadn't raged had been the vital clue, and though Spike was disappointed the git hadn't fallen for the plan, he couldn't hold back his admiration that this watcher actually watched all the salient events—even when struggling with magically-induced blindness. It meant he cared and that he was looking out for Buffy. One day someone would work out the Slayer was vulnerable to magic, and Spike wouldn't put it past the witch to be the one who did, or for her to use the knowledge against her supposed best friend. She seemed to be all about the quick fix and the healing of her own pain to the detriment of others.

Spike strutted down the street, swearing under his breath. Bloody inconvenient he couldn't just snap her neck and save a couple years of possible unrest and pain. The girl was arrogant and Spike just had a feeling that it would be the end of her. What he didn't want—what he'd go to the ends of the earth to prevent—was for it to be the end of Buffy.

He could hear the spill of music from the Bronze as he turned the corner and ambled down the alley. There was no way he was allowing Buffy to end this engagement. No one would believe it was real if it was over in a blink. Spike needed it to continue so he could feed his own fantasy that it was real. He needed Buffy to be his for just a little bit longer. He wasn't so stupid as to believe he could make her see it as a forever option. Bint was too hooked on Angel for that to ever be a possibility.

He saw her the second he passed through the door. The lights were low but she was pride of centre, moving her hips and arms in a dance that he well remembered. Her friends surrounded her, but Spike never saw them. A soft affectionate smile graced his lips as he watched her—watched her shine like the true flower she was.

It was strange to see her this way and not contemplate the slayer blood that flowed through her body. Not see the design of her corpse in his mind as he plotted ways to achieve her death. Those thoughts merely fed his nausea all the sudden and Spike felt like cursing.

She'd neutered him.

She'd been the beacon in the night that had lead him back to this town time after time, the one that occupied him to the point of distraction against the new evil forces of the night. Thanks to her, he'd been bagged and tagged and crippled to his way of life and was chock full of conscience. And it was her fault he was falling for her. Her lips, her quips, her tight, packed little body had him whipped like a little puppy wagging his tail behind him as he trotted after her.

Without breaking his gaze, he watched her while gravitating toward a free seat. Just seeing her absorb the surrounding beat made him hot and certain parts of his anatomy throb for her. He saw what he had the first night he clapped eyes on her. Shining hair, lithe limbs moving with grace and a body made for love. Except then he'd wanted to snuff her out. He'd seen her attributes, of course he had, but he'd been oblivious then. How could he have expected that a petite blonde would make him buzz with life and make him ache with death?

An indulgent smile settled on his lips. Yeah, there were all the telltale signs of a blooming attraction and he was well past preventing them or fighting with himself. He knew how he worked, and now that he'd reached this point it was unlikely he'd be able to regain a footing in his previous train of thought. No matter what she did, he was beyond thinking of her as a meal; beyond thinking of her as a slayer notch on his belt.

Trust Buffy to test his realisation as soon as he'd made it. In a split second the music figuratively stopped as her body halted its dance and she giggled at something some insipid-looking hulk said to her. There was touching as she laid her hand on his forearm and Spike was livid. The git looked like Angel too much for his peace of mind. There was the height, the blank stupidity and the nauseatingly sweet lusting after Buffy. His Buffy. Whether it was fake or not, she was his fiancée and no brooding wannabe was going to march in and divert her attention from him.

Spike's jaw ticked in irritation and he felt the muscles of his arms bunch in anticipation. There was nothing he'd like better than to punch this one through the floor, even if it did catapult him into a sure brain meltdown. Stepping away from his stool, Spike made his way to Buffy, murderously intent on preserving his engagement at all costs. There was an air of expectation that buzzed around his head but he was so lost now in his raging anger at her touching another male that he was beyond calming down.

"Get away from her, you pillock." Lip sneered perfectly, feet spread and fists clenched, Spike knew he looked pretty imposing and his temper wasn't something most people ignored and kept their lives to brag about it.

"Hey, ease off buddy. I'm just talking. Hey, do I know you?" The jovial confusion set Spike's teeth on edge and he could feel his mask tickling to take over his face.

"Spike!" Buffy jumped in urgently, clamping hold of his arm and holding it against her body hard. "What are you doing here? I thought you were at Giles's place tonight." She smiled nervously, pinching through his coat hard on his arm.

"Turns out Rupes was a bit distracted, so I skipped out looking for you. Didn't expect to see you cosying up to this wanker though, did I?" He nearly growled at how betrayed he felt, despite knowing he had no right to be. Her friends were here, though, watching her flash come-hither glances at the overbearing hayseed standing over them.

It was small comfort to see that Buffy looked embarrassed, but then she flushed guiltily and he saw red. Literally too as Willow hesitantly approached and tried to distract him with offers of coming to join their table. He shook her hand off with a slight wince and vowed to make her bleed out when he got the chip out of his head. He was so filled with hate and fury right now that he was well imagining a blood bath—but it was made worse by the earlier avowal that he would value Buffy's life rather than seek an end to it.

"Piss off, Witch." Spike snarled at the redhead and Buffy looked frantically at the waste of everyone's space with the bugging eyes before urgently slapping at Spike's chest.

"Don't be so rude, Spike," she pouted prettily, batting her eyelashes like she had a license to thrill.

"So your fiancé's kind of possessive then," asked Riley with his own pout of disappointment.

If that didn't grate… "Wouldn't you bleeding well be possessive of your woman?" Spike growled, dismissing him, then twisting around to grab hold of Buffy's hand and tug her to the exit. She yanked free before pushing him away, staring furiously at him.

"You're dancing a little close to the edge if you think you can He-man your way in here and cause trouble." Buffy's eyes narrowed at his unhinged laugh, stepping slowly away as Spike stepped too far into her space.

"Oh you are **not **telling me to leave you here to tart it up with that wanker." His eyes glittered dangerously and fangs itched to descend and scare the crap out of all their onlookers.

"What I'm telling you is that you can't force me to do anything." Buffy stared him down, her lips tight and her eyes hard.

Spike studied her expression. It could be that she was using this opportunity to stage their break-up, painting him into a corner and making him look like a wet-behind-the-ears loser who had no respect from his partner. He tilted his head to the side and contemplated her heaving breasts and her flush of anger.

"You want me to just turn around and leave you here? With him?" There was no concealing his hurt. The fake engagement wasn't even an issue to Spike anymore. This was a rejection no matter which way he looked at it. She wanted freedom to audition new Angel stand-ins and she wanted him gone so she could do it.

Buffy was lost for words.

Saying she was confused about how she was feeling was an understatement she didn't want to look at any deeper. She couldn't have faked an emotional upheaval like this. Even though it had been her intention to use Spike to hide the fact she was vulnerable to future magical attacks, things had been shared between them and there hadn't been enough time yet for her to truly think about what the consequences were to such actions.

She knew in her head it was wrong, but when Spike was touching her, kissing her, the concept of _wrongness _was lost on her. Which part of her did she trust? She didn't know what to do, didn't know if spending time getting to know Riley was even worth it, but Spike's caveman routine in the Bronze was more than a little humiliating and she wasn't ready to deal with anything that was promising a taste of finality.

"I think you need to just cool down. Come in and sit with us, dance with me—" Only as the words spilled out did she realise that she really was hoping he'd take her up on it. Buffy wanted to spend some time with Spike, not Riley, and the defensive stance he adopted just made her heart lodge painfully in her throat.

"I don't think so, Buffy. Maybe you were right an' this really is a mistake." They stood frozen staring at each other, panic making Buffy want to rush into his arms and self-preservation causing Spike to take a step back toward the door.

Now that he was leaving, Buffy felt crippled with anxiety. What was he doing? He hadn't wanted to do the necessary break-up in front of her friends. He'd wanted to continue their engagement and now that it was looking pretty much over, Buffy felt an urgent need to preserve it. She wasn't ready, and Spike was backing away.

Riley and her friends were forgotten as Buffy rushed after him, catching him just as he was about to disappear around a corner. Her body tingled with memory, his touch something she was beginning to realise meant more to her than convenience. There was emotion here, something more than hate, something softer and kind.

"Spike?" She felt like the tears that were tightening her throat were not entirely out of place with the look of defeat he shot at her.

"Look, Slayer. It was good while it lasted, yeah? But we both know I'm not what you'd call desirable to your little Scooby gang, and I'm not gonna hang around and watch while you get caught up with something like that…human," he spat distastefully. "I know that's what you want, so let's just pretend you sent old Spike packing and forget we even had this thing between us, okay?"

He was leaving.

Everything went cold and dark and Buffy struggled to breathe.

He was leaving and she shouldn't care—but she did. There was so much confusion, and even if she planned on sorting it out in favour of hating Spike again, it was too early to see the back of him.

Besides, she'd promised to help him get out the chip.

"But what about the chip? I said—"

"Know what you said, pet. Doesn't matter. This place is destroying me. Think it might be better if I skip out now before…"

"Before hearts get broken?" Buffy supplied in a low, cracked voice, wondering as her nose itched and her eyes began to sting if maybe it was already happening.

At least it made the hard, unforgiving look soften on Spike's face. He smiled a sad, gentle smile. Whispered with a frog in his throat "Yeah," before reaching out to track the first tear that slid dolefully down her cheek.

And then he was gone. Buffy blinked against the ache in her throat, and he was gone.

And the engagement was at an end.


	8. Chapter 8

**Epilogue**

The pendant had sat in his palm for two days before he could finally bring himself to send it to her. Demon courier services had come a long way since back in the day when they'd often eaten the recipient of their delivery. Seemed they accepted more reasonable currency these days—not that Spike needed to worry that Buffy couldn't protect herself against a lowly misguided courier.

Came in handy sometimes to have as evil a reputation as his. Word had yet to spread that he was almost useless against humans, and Spike had found out by accident that he was still the Big Bad in the ever-flowing sea of evil. Demons had no advantage over him and for that he was infinitely grateful. And having _that _ advantage made it easier to get what he wanted. Within reason. He couldn't get Buffy, no matter how he wished for it.

He could feel the power surrounding the object before he'd even held it in his hand. Had known its secrets before they'd been whispered to him by the sorcerer. It was fixed to a leather strap, coated in so much magic that it took Spike's breath away. The disc was smooth gold and flattened around the edges, but not sharp. It was engraved with protective magical symbols and soaked in a confusion spell, rendering anyone trying to read it unable to grasp the meaning of its particular use. To any observer it would appear an attractive, meaningless object that Buffy would hopefully consent to wear around her neck. It would protect her from any magical misdemeanour, and Willow wouldn't know to do a damn thing about it.

If anything, it would at least prevent her from becoming mystically betrothed to some other poor sap.

In the four months it had taken him to find this particular sorcerer and bribe him into providing the protection the Slayer would need, Spike had resisted every impulse he'd had to find out if Buffy had started a relationship with the big smarmy plonker he'd seen her with that final night. He'd spent many an evening and day wondering if he'd done the right thing in leaving, and then worrying some more that he'd just been a giant drama queen. He knew it in his gut, however, that staying wouldn't have achieved anything good.

There was plenty of talk around the place that she was still alive, and he had heard through the grapevine that she was up against something big. Something attributable to that evil little military set-up that he could thank for the current hardware in his head. He knew she was still alive and after this long, Spike was inclined to think she was blessed. And he was thankful.

One last glance at the pendant and he was satisfied. He'd penned a note with the explanations, trying to explain the importance of the gift without giving his heart away. Wanting to express how much she needed to wear it to keep herself safe without begging her to accept a gift from one she considered a monster.

He'd paid the delivery service with a higher currency than cash—kittens—for that extra bit of insurance, yet despite this he watched the disappearance of the demon with apprehension. In too few hours, the courier would set eyes on Buffy, and the wanker wouldn't even appreciate what a privilege that was.

The focus of months was now over and Spike was left feeling aimless and colder than he had been in years. He'd never imagined there would ever be a time where he'd be without Dru, let loose in the world without the will to really _do _anything. Being something now was too risky and required more effort than Spike was willing to expend.

Angel knew he was in town, yet Spike had waited for the old fart to come and torture him for vengeance. To satisfy his itch for violence. But he hadn't come. Spike spied on him sometimes, watched his new merry band of men—and woman—fight the good fight and it made Spike partially nostalgic for what he'd left behind in SunnyD. He didn't like this feeling of being unwanted and unneeded. No one had rushed to be in his presence since he'd quietly driven into town, not that he'd made much of an impact while he'd been out searching for the answer to Buffy's dilemma.

Choices seemed laid out before him like an endless line of drollness.

Bugger!

Who was he trying to kid? Every step he made from now would be a lonely one, each new place friendless. None of his remaining family wanted him—and in Angel's case he supposed that was a blessing. No need to offer himself up as a sacrifice to his elder who would likely be very keen for the opportunity to teach his wayward grandchilde the exact feel of the flaming hot poker being shoved through his spleen.

Even if the place was the site of his destruction, Sunnydale felt more like home to him than any other place ever had. It had the Bronze, with its buffalo wings and flowering onions. It had the Watcher with his entertain-a-minute uselessness. And it had Buffy. Even if she dated an endless line of wankers, he found it unbearable to be apart from her. Even if King Forehead himself dropped back into town and there was another wage-with-Hell battle, he'd rather be miserable in her presence than miserable and alone.

It was a moment of epiphany that required the sweet soothing burn of nicotine and Spike rummaged around in his pockets until he found a battered pack. The cylinder slipped between his fingers easily, the tip flaring into existence at the snap of a lighter. A dead lungful later and Spike was smiling at his decision.

"God you've been a burk, Spike." Saying the words out loud gave him the strength and courage that had been flagging the past months and he turned abruptly on his heel, striding down the busy street, heavy boots, dangling cigarette and mean scowl marking him as dangerous; onlookers rushed frantically out of his way.

If he hurried, he'd be able to see the look on Buffy's face when the demon showed up with his package.

Yeah, that was a plan.


End file.
